Preparing for the Worst
No longer were the military bands playing to appreciative mixed civilian and military audiences next to the Pavilion on the Boulevard on Sevastopol south side. The bourgeois and upper class families were long gone. The servicemen's women and children were more tenacious. They had been banished by edict several times, yet somehow had managed to worm their way back; but by the end of August even they had gathered up what precious belongings the constant rain of shot and shell had deigned to leave them, and had departed to the north by the new pontoon bridge. It was a tricky crossing for a wagon if the harbour was choppy; the individual pontoons could sway and buck and several of them might well be awash. But they would have put up with many times more risk and discomfort for the relief of landing on the north side. Here was a different world of calm and normality - they could savour the fresh air, untainted by brickdust and the acrid smell of cordite as they plodded along scarcely damaged roads to the shanty town which had sprung up on the western outskirts. At least they could worry about their menfolk in relative peace.
There were women left on the south side, but only those engaged in essential services or paramilitary occupations. The most evident were the Sisters of Mercy. The Kushchin House Hospital was busier than ever after the Tchernaya catastrophe, and was the only building to show a light, albeit dull and flickering during the hours of darkness. On occasion down to six doctors to look after 1500 wounded, the hospital suffered conditions worse than anything endured at Scutari. An eyewitness tries to describe it: "The room in which the wounded were brought was literally choked with patients, the floors were covered with them, heaped up without any classification. As the night fell, two tall candles in the hands of the orderlies only added sufficient light to make darkness visible. The doctors were deafened by the sad cries of this multitude of wounded calling for aid or, at all events, for water. It was impossible to move to the furthest one without trampling others underfoot."
Cafes, restaurants, even the taverns had all closed. Wagons loaded with replacement gabions rumbling up to the front line bastions provided the only regular frequent traffic. This job got progressively more dangerous as the month wore on. The British ammunition consumption figures illustrate this; from 90 rounds fired on the 10th to 800 on the 16th. And all hell was let loose on the 17th when the 5th Bombardment began.
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